Severus Snape, A Soft Side
by writinchic
Summary: The hard-hearted, professor with black, accusing eyes is obviously evil. But what, if he wasn't. What if he was heart-broken. The hard exterior merely masking the soft, loving side that had been pushed so far within him that he had forgotten it was there. Is there any coincidence though, that his favorite color is green? I DO NOT OWN ANY HARRY POTTER STUFF! Just this excerpt.


_The past years were non-existent; he had never said the fateful word. In fact, the word didn't exist at all. It had disappeared with the years he had missed. Lily had walked down the aisle towards his smiling figure, her crazy muggle family had become his, the house was theirs, and the black-haired, smiling baby was no longer one he hated but instead, it was his. _

_Images blurred in a slideshow of what could have been their lives, him protecting his small family from the Dark Lord—leading to his ultimate defeat by the hands of Dumbledore. He could see Harry as a toddler with a little broomstick, he and Lily would run after him to keep their child safe. Nights of bedtime stories turning into merely sitting next to the love of his life. Simply holding her hand and knowing she was his forever. _

_Of course there would be bad moments, fights, and pain; he had known his share of pain and would gladly take a few hateful words because nothing could top the word he had so carelessly uttered. No, uttered was too mild a term. He had thrown it at her. The word that still sent chills down his spine to hear. _

_Another blur, students laughing, someone crying, a lash out, and finally, the word. It echoed through his cavernous mind._ "100 points from Slytherin!" The boy in green robes stared up at him in shock, had Professor Snape—the most biased teacher in school—just given one of his own, very dear, Slytherin students, a form of punishment? A joke. That made more sense than this. The boy smirked at him "Very funny, sir." _Sarcasm. A joke?! That word was not a joke, it destroyed things._ "Make that 200, now scatter!" The entire hallway cleared leaving only a small figure huddled on the floor by the wall.

Normally, the hard-hearted professor would have swept right past, possibly allowing his billowing black robes to brush against her in a show of his contempt for those who show emotions in public. _This was different. This was brought on by THAT word._ He stopped and squatting down, his robes made a puddle of black around the forlorn picture. He looked down at her, and for the first time he saw a person inside of those student's robes, not filler space. The reason for this sudden transformation was obvious. Beneath her burgundy robes, and equally burgundy hair, was the third most beautiful set of eyes he had ever seen. _Green._

He reached a hand towards her and she quickly straightened into a sitting position. "I, I… I'm sorry, sir…" she stuttered, leaving his hand outstretched. He could sense her hesitation. _Of course. Severus Snape, the monster of a teacher. Cold hearted, was he? No. Just broken-hearted._ "It's okay. Words are in fact, a source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." A quivering smile entered her face as she stretched out a hand and placed it on that of the black-eyed professor. _A gesture of trust._ "Well those words" she said, as she stood up slowly, "were definitely meant to inflict injury. It's not like I did anything to him!" A defiant sparkle in her eye made Snape lose his balance as he stood. So like Lily, but not. This was just a student and as she smiled in thanks before continuing down the corridor to the stairs, she turned back into filler space.

No filler could fill this void. Nothing could mask his pain. "You've chosen you're way, I've chosen mine." The words cut through him worse than any knife. Humiliation due to a boyish prank had caused this pain. He had spent so long convincing himself and everyone around him that he blamed and hated James for what happened, but in truth, it was only himself that he hated. Only the pale face in the mirror deserved his loathing. Black robes flowing behind, he stormed back to his potions room to sit and agonize over every little mistake. To let his self-abhorrence fester until he found an outlet for it. The next class of students arrived and he smirked, what luck, Potter.


End file.
